Another Lovely Story that Didn't Really Take Place
by theBlueEyedOne
Summary: No summary for you...


**AN~ Hiya! Disclaimer!**

**Me: *walks home from school***

**Clint+SomeGuyHeKnows: *pull up to the corner in a truck***

**Me: *stops because I just wanna cross the street***

**Clint+SomeGuyHeKnows: *SGHK leans back jsut a little bit as I stare angrily at the car- Clint reveals himself with a blank stare at me, over said friends shoulder***

**Me: *in mind* "Hey that's Clint, yeah he had a yellow shirt- that msut be him" *in real life- stares awkwardly gaping at car in horror***

**Miller: Stop gaping at my brother and get a move on! And beware you don't own DP!**

**Me: Yeah I know... *shrugs and waits for this dramatic yet coincidental event to stop happening***

**Clint+SGHK: *drives away with with Clint that stopped looking at her five minutes ago due to creeper awareness levels in his brain***

**((And Miller- I know but I was a block from my house when this guy in a truck pulled up and I gave it the death stare, while the said guy leaned forward to reveal a very thoughtless Clint))**

_I was laying on my back, head titled to the side, one leg bent, the lying straight. I was in a dark, damp, and ash filled war zone. Cannons, and shots filled the air, with every breath, my lungs grew tighter, hating the unclean air. My breathing slowed. This was beautiful, and sad. Why was war always like this- it was the place of love for your country, but also of hate for thy other. It was depressing, and sad. But it was also the place where all emotions meet. Happiness that you'll die with honor. Sadness that your friends are dying, too. Anger at how useless it all seemed. How many lives have been lost with countless attacks you didn't even try to win, because you were too tired. Love for the people around you, and hate for the people of that line drawn, the one that Patriots drew with the Red Coats, the one in the Civil War, the one that was drawn in all wars- every war- any war._

_Another rusty cannon went of with a resounding crack. The pistols firing. People falling, wailing, crying, sobbing, laughing, saying the last words to their comrade as that cannon ball heads for you, and you know it's too late._

_The ground rumbled as more people let out sighs, and varying cries of agony. Though some people died soundlessly, too scared to scream, to shout. Others could wail for hours, maybe a whole day until their last breath finally gave out, and they could cry no more. Others- they were just to make noise, to distract. Some were battle cries- rather high pitched, but full of some meaning. _

_As more cracks, and shouts sounded felt my breaths become shorter, easier somehow. More loud yells, and thwacks of flying punches from the free-handers, I felt a presence- one I knew all too well._

_From the depths of the dusty and dirt- filled battle came my one and only true love. The one with the eyes- the only ones that could read me. Know when my stutter was from nervousness, or lying. Maybe just because I was tired. The one that never held me though I wish he did. The only one true savior- from the dust and ash came the one and only true love of my life. Derek Souza._

_He seemed to go unnoticed by the soldiers from other worlds. Just like I. I could lay in the field, and not be hurt in anyway, not stepped on or noticed. It seemed like we weren't there. He made his way to me- face dirtied. Derek held his hand out to me- probably to help me up. I took it and helped myself stand with the strong and muscular leverage that was Derek._

_As soon as I was up he hugged me. No a serious a hug- one that I could only imagine. Wait- imagine._

I opened my eyes slowly, and carefully. Where was I? I felt strong arms around me and almost yelped. I turned my head ever so slightly to see Derek, head in the crook of my neck, arms wrapped tightly around my arms and waist. My eyes were probably as big as saucers. _Derek._ Yes I processed that part. _Snuggling._ 'Kay- that's a bit weirder- maybe with a steak. _With_. With what exactly? _Me._ You, well who are you? _I'm you dip- shit. _Oh. Right. Me.

I shivered. Silently, and gently I hoped, removed his arms from around my body after I had shimmied a hand out.

I was about to get out of bed when a large hand caught my wrist. I turned and saw a bleery- eyed Derek staring up at me, hair mussed and sticking up at odd 16- year old angles.

He kind of frowned then his face lit up in this adorable Derek way, when he finally remembered something.

"You were crying and- and I came in here to see what was wrong. But when I walked in your tears just stopped and you calmed down a bit. I started to walk out- your sobs started again, so I took a few steps inside and saw your were asleep. You stopped crying, and when I sat down on the bed you had a smile on your face. I was confused, but tired and I didn't want you to keep crying, so I laid myself at the end of the bed, scrunched up in a tight ball, and I guess I moved, and started sleep- hugging you. Sorry," Derek said, hand massaging the back of his neck, other hand still clasping my wrist.

"Well thanks- erm don't ask what the dream is about… I don't know if I should tell you." I said smiling then getting up but still being held back by his iron grip.

He gave me a look that told me to sit my ass down and spill the secret- beans. (**Hehe- that sounded weird**)

I did as his eyes told me to do, but ended up in his lap somehow. Okay, what is wrong with my legs? I sighed, scooted off, and started to tell him my dream about being in a battlefield, and I was just laying there; listening to the sound-track of the dead. When I got to the part where he came I left out the whole I stopped crying part, and him hugging me.

No creepy stalker details for this girl.

"So- it was like Civil War style stuff? And- erm I came and rescued your poor stuttering behind?" Derek asked.

"Pretty much. Now let's skip all the 'You're my hero,' crap, I want some breakfast." I went over and kissed his cheek, tough. I pulled away then scrambled down the stairs.


End file.
